


The Game

by Kitkatzgr8



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bendy Trash, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I honestly don't even know why I wrote this, I should be sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatzgr8/pseuds/Kitkatzgr8
Summary: "Y'know, when I'm outta here, I'm suing you. I don't care if you're a friggin' ink demon, I will find a way to bring you to court and I will make sure you pay, both literally because I'm broke, and figuratively because I've never wanted to punch someone more in my entire life."In which you fill the place of Henry, don't act stupid, and actually approach the 'Bendy and the Ink Machine' situation properly.(Basically my "Put Yourself Into The Narrative" story but with BATIM instead of Hamilton because I'm unoriginal trash that likes to write)





	1. Do You Think This Is a Fricking Game?

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno why I'm even writing this, but hey, it's entertaining to write. Basically, throughout the game, I was internally and externally screaming at Henry for being kinda stupid at times, so I just transferred my frustration here. Hope you enjoy.

If you had known you'd be in this situation before noon, you'd have just stayed in bed. But really, how were you supposed to know that exploring an abandoned building would lead to this? All you had done was taken a picture of the faded 'Joey Drew Studios' sign on the front of this crumbling building to post, thinking it would be cool to joke that you found the actually found the studio in "Bendy and the Ink Machine," and now you were locked inside. "Great, just great! Of course I just had to check out the inside and stupidly get myself locked in. Of course!" you mutter. For the twenty-first time, you jiggle the handle to the door and curse as the door doesn't budge. "Well... fudge," you mutter as you give the handle one last tug, then sigh and turn to look down the hallway. 

Though you had never actually been here, you recognized it clearly. The short, yellowed hallway littered with pealing promotional posters that lead into a larger room immediately gave away its location. The only problem was, there should've been no way to get here. 

"I'm definitely dreaming," you mumble, pinching yourself halfheartedly. That was what you were supposed to do to see if you were in a dream, right? Pinching yourself harder, you winced and stopped. Okay, but this had to be a dream. There was no way you were actually here. The thing was, this didn't feel like a dream. And you definitely didn't remember falling asleep. Staring down one of the posters, you glare at the gloved hand as if waiting for this illusion to manifest itself as a dream. After staring at the poster for a moment longer, you sigh, stepping away from the door and decidedly walking down the hallway. Three large reels on the wall turn lazily, the sound adding to the overall uneasiness the place gave off. Your eyes scan over the desk in the corner and then the table in the middle of the room, and familiarness almost sets your mind at ease. But the moment they fall on the smiling face set by the projector, you shout "nope," spin around on the heel of your foot, and speed-walk back to the door, desperately trying the handle again. 

After trying for another few fruitless minutes to open the door, you kick it angrily, then turn back down the hallway. "Lemme guess, I'm supposed to go find some 'ink machine,' aren't I?" you say jokingly, but there's an underlying tone of anger. If this was a prank, it really wasn't all that funny. Your voice echoes down the hallway, but nobody answers. Instead, a small, yellowed slip of paper falls from the ceiling. Fumbling for it in the air, it slips from your hand and lands on the floor. "New Objective," you say out loud as you bend over and pick up the paper. "Find the Ink Machine." Rolling your eyes, crumbling tossing it over your shoulder, you cross your arms over your chest and glare down the hallway. "Okay, this really doesn't feel like a dream, so I'm just going to assume this is a prank. If I play your little game, are you going to unlock this door?" 

Nobody responds. 

You roll your eyes. "Okay, Imma take that as a yes, because if I have to bust my way out because you don't let me out, I'm going to hunt you all down and make sure you wish you never even seen my beautiful face." Pausing another moment to give the creators of this sick prank a chance to respond, but still getting no response, you let out an annoyed puff of air and head down the hall. 

"Okay, this is like the game, right? Because if so, I think the ink machine is right down this hallway..." Pointing at the hallway at one side of the room as you trail off, you look around at the studio and can't help but whistle in admiration. "I have to admit though, this is exactly like the game. So, I mean, for a stupid prank for little ol' me... you guys did your research..."

Walking down the hallway, you see a doorway at the end of the hall, through which you can see a familiar looking machine. "Wow, how much money did it cost to put this together?" you wonder out loud as you step into the room. 

"So this is the ink machine, huh?" You look around for who had said it, but then you realize... "Wonder how you turn it on... okay why did I just say that?" You glare around the room, hoping that some sort of hidden camera was picking up how done you were with this. "Okay, ha ha ha, this ain't even funny anymore. It really wasn't in the first place. You're making me feel like I'm actually in the game, and now I'm saying Henry's lines for some reason. That ain't funny. So let me out... now." 

In response, another paper flutters down from the rafters. This time, you manage to catch it. "New Objective: Turn On The Machine... see, this isn't funny. I have a dentist appointment in an hour, and while I'd love to stay here and play your creepy real-life horror games, I really can't. So please, just flip the switch, let me see who you f... people are, and let me leave. I'd actually love to come check out this place later, but..." You trail off, then gesture for the people in charge of this to jump in and say that they're sorry and let you go to your totally-not-made-up-as-an-excuse-to-get-out-of-this-creepy-place dentist appointment and reveal that this was all a prank. 

Nobody does that. 

"I hate you all," you say simply. Walking out of the room, you head down the hall towards where you know the Power Room is. Hardly breaking a sweat when the board falls from the ceiling, you do pause and stare down at it. "Wow... you got every detail down flat, doncha?" Kicking the board lightly, you look around. "Wait, am I on tv? Like, is this a game show thing? I feel like it is." Again, no answer. You roll your eyes again. "Whatever." Running your fingers through your hair, you give your best smolder look to the wall. "Just make sure you get my good side for all the lucky viewers who get to watch this beautiful face." Looking to your left and seeing a familiar black figure set on a table, you walk towards the room. 

"Heya Boris, how's it go..." You trail off as you examine the corpse, and a sense of... nervousness? Anxiety? Disgust? comes over you. This was way different in the game. In the game, all you saw was Boris's body, but in this room...

"Oh my gosh, Joey, what were you doing?" You don't even bother freaking out about saying the scripted lines from the game again; you were serious about this line and would have said it anyway. 

The smell of musty ink was overpowering, but there was definitely the underlying, coppery scent of blood. Boris's chest seemed to be more brutally ripped open, his head lolling to the side, cartoony 'x's over his eyes to show that he was indeed dead. The patches of inky fur around the straps was mussed and streaks of ink under the gloved hands of the wolf showed that there was a struggle. 

You shook your head. To give the APPEARANCE of a struggle. This wasn't real, you had to remind yourself. This was all fake. "I'll probably have a good laugh over it with the directors after this," you muse as your eyes scan over the 'Dreams Come True' messily written on the wall. "Maybe if this works out, I could get my own show. Get out of games, go through them and solve them, people could see my reactions. Like a play-through, but better!" 

Using these new-found thoughts of being rich and famous as a distraction from the scene in front of you, which you had to admit was creeping you out far more than anything else in this place, you turn around and leave Boris's room. 

"If this is a tv show, I'd better get paid for this," you remark as you step over the fallen board and turn left into the next room. 

Walking into the Power Room, you look around at the six pedestals set around the room, then look at the main power switch. "Alright, how do I get this to OKAY STOP IT!" Looking wildly around the room, wide eyed, you try to calm down your racing heart. "Okay, I don't know how you're doing this, how you're somehow subconsciously making me say the lines from the game as if I were actually in it in real life, but I don't like it. It is freaking me out, and like I've said before, I need to go. I'm pretty sure this breaks the law, like, fifty different ways, anyway!" 

Again, nobody answers. You were really starting to think that nobody was actually here, that you were just talking to yourself, slowly going crazy. Or... maybe... maybe this was actually re-

No. Don't even think that. There's no way that this could be real. Even if this isn't a dream, that still doesn't mean that there isn't a logical explanation for this. 

Another piece of paper flutters down from the ceiling, and you look up, trying to figure out where they could be coming from. You don't even need to read this one; you already know what it says. "New Objective," you think as you turn to walk out of the Power Room. "Fix The Ink Machine." 

"Three, two, one-" A violin plucks out of nowhere, almost making you jump out of surprise, but you manage to keep your cool as you are face to face with the smiling cutout that magically appeared in the hallway. "Oh no, so scary, Bendy cutout in the middle of the hallway, ah I'm afraid," you say dismissively as you walk past the cardboard cutout of the cartoon character and begin scouring the studio for the items. 

"Hmm, the gear is always in the ink machine room..." you mutter as you make your way down the hallways, turning right and walking back into the ink machine room. Going to the small alcove in the right corner, you grab the gear and heft it in your hand. "Huh, a bit heavier than I imagined... wait..." Turning around, you shout, "Oh, don't have the technology to magically teleport the items I pick up to the power room? Wow, way to be realistic! Y'know, I kind expected more from..." Raising your hand up to raise the gear in the air, your hand only closes on air. You comically do a double take, and your mouth falls open. After a few moments of searching around you, you run back to the power room only to see the gear on its proper pedestal, floating in the air above it and slowly turning. "B-but... b-but..." you stutter, walking closer to it. Waving your hand above it, then under it, then on either side, you realize that nothing's holding it in the air. 

From behind you, you hear a low, echoing chuckle. Spinning around, gripping the pedestal base behind you, you look around wildly for something, anything that could have made the noise. Only the pedestals, the pictures, and main power switch stare back at you. 

Eying the ink puddle at the base of the switch, you swallow thickly. "W-who did that?" you stutter again. There's yet again no response. Then, listening closer, you realize that there is something. Straining your ears, you hear a faint whistling echo down the halls to answer you. It was a familiar tune, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was...

You freeze. The Chapter 2 trailer Bendy whistling. 

"Oh... shiz..." Another low chuckle sounds and you glare at the ink puddle. "Not. Funny," you growl before spinning on your heel and going off to search for the other items. You'd start at your old work desk... you mean, Henry's old work desk, and work your way onward from there. The sooner you could get out of this place, the better. 

It was at this moment that you subconsciously realized that this wasn't a game. 

This was THE game.


	2. Moving Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That stupid exit door is deceptivly strong, you punch a cutout, and you really just want that gosh-danged axe already

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... people actually read this??? Oh my gosh guys, go read DisneyPhantomlover's series or something by HershelChocolate or anything that isn't absolute garbage like this is xD Anyway, I got some positive feedback and got into the double-digets with kudos, so I'm finally ready to post Chapter Two! 
> 
> (...well, it's actually still just Chapter One in the game in the story, but it's the second chapter in this crapnugget so... idk?)
> 
> ANYway, here ya go! Hope I continued to make this entertaining, and I hope you enjoy!

~sQUEAK~

You shiver as you loosen your grip on the Bendy plush. "Oh gosh, that's creepy," you mutter as it disappears in your hands, just like all the other items had. Glancing once more around you, you dash off to the Power Room. All the items now floated above their pedestals, and none of them were being held in the air by anything (you had checked multiple times). 

"Okay, that's all of them! I just need to get the ink fl-" You bite your tongue, cutting off the rest of your words. Quoting the game really wasn't helping the overall mood of this place, and quite frankly, this had stopped being even remotely cool just about as soon as the disembodied chuckle, creepy whistling, and teleporting/floating items had begun to happen. Even though you were confident in your knowledge of the game, knowing where every potential jumpscare, secret room, and puzzle answer was, that didn't excuse the fact that you were still stuck in this place and it was getting late. Judging by the fading light that you saw shining in from under the exit door the last time you had been over there, you had been in here for a few hours... at least. Finding the items themselves didn't take very long, but... You rub your shoulder and wince as you look at all the items slowly spinning in the air. That exit door was deceptivly strong. Even after an hour of frantic pummeling, the wood refused to give even an inch. After you realized that your best shot to get out would be to do what... whoever was in charge of this wanted to you do, you had quickly got to work tracking down every last item. Of course, you hadn't passed up the chance to here Wally Franks iconic 'I'm outta here' recording in person, nor had you ignored the oportunity to blare Kyle Allen's song from the radio that promptly broke after one round of said song, but besides that, you had finished your task without any major distraction.

"...Bendy and the ink machine… In a way you've never seen..." you hum under your breath as you look around the room again, glancing uneasily at the ink puddle under the power switch before confidentally holding out your hands. "Okie-dokie, I know you're a big fan of telling me what I already know, so... next objective, go!" You don't even blink as a yellowed paper flutters down from the ceiling and lands perfectly in the palms of your hands. Looking up at the ceiling, you give an impressed nod. "Nice aim."

Scanning over the words on the paper, you once again read the note out loud. "New Objective: Restore Ink Pressure. Oh goodie, next jumpscare here I come!" you say sarcastically as you walk out of the Power Room and head down the hallway towards the Projector Room. Turning right, you nonchalantly begin walking down the last hallway, then unpredictably sprint towards the corner just as a violin plucks and the Bendy cutout peeks out from around the corner. You swear the pie cut eyes widen for a second, the cardboard jerking back the tinniest bit right before your fist connects with that stupidly smug smile, sending the figure crashing against the wall, shattering instantly. 

Shaking your hand, wincing at your bruising knuckles, you can't keep a grin off your face as you look at the shattered pieces of the cardboard cutout. "For being called 'Bendy,' you sure are more solid than you look, aren't ya? Betcha didn't expect that! You might be able to force me to play your game, but the funny thing is..." You grin. "I'm not gonna play it your way." Grinding the pieces into the floor with your foot, you step into the projector room, only looking at the repetative animation that suddenly clicks on for a second before pushing the flow button behind the projector and leaving. 

"And... I just did the stupidest thing that Henry does in this studio, the thing that I always complain about being ‘unrealistic’ and ‘stupid’ when playing the game... well, besides going into this stupid studio, that is," you groan internally. "So... I just go flip the switch and 'I'm outta here,' right?" you say, doing your best immitation of Wally Franks as you turn left to head back to the Power Room. A muffled clang from the pipe jutting out of the wall behind you responds. Jumping at the noise, you slowly turn to look at the pipe, which innocently throbs as ink pulses through it. 

"Umm, bang once for yes, twice for no?" you try.

Nothing responds.

Laughing fakely, you continue. "Haha, I was kidding, of course the answer's yes, because if it wasn't," your smile drops suddenly. "Well, then I don't think you know what I'm capable of." You pause for a moment, letting that sink in, before clapping your hands together once, spinning around on the heel of your foot, and walking back towards the Power Room. "Well, anyway, let's get this over with, shall we?"

Noting the sudden disappearance of a Bendy cutout in the hallway, you walk into the Power Room, heading straight for the pump switch. Seeing the flashing 'Ready' next to the switch, you grab the lever firmly, then pull it downwards. It pulls easily, squeaking slightly as you hear ink beginning to flow. "And, batta-bing, batta-boom, I'm done here," you say, dusting off your hands and walking out of the Power Room. Seeing Boris’s corpse out of the corner of your eye, you pause. 

“Well, actually, there’s one more thing…”

Walking into Boris’s room, you try not to breathe in the blood-and-ink scent too deeply as you look pointedly away from the ink-splurting body strapped to the table, focusing on the poster on the right side of the wall. “Bendy in: Sheep Song! With Boris the Wolf…” You can’t help but give a sidelong glance at Boris’s body as you read the cheery poster before placing a hand on the wall next to the paper and pushing.

Then you stumble, thrown off balance as you feel the wall disapear beneath your hand. Looking up, you can’t help but smile slightly as you see a cardboard cutout of a familiar puppet propped up in front of you. “Heya, themeatly,” you whisper, then shiver as one of the candles at his feet flicker. Looking into the simple, circle eyes, you only hold the gaze for a second before dropping your eyes to the floor. “Wow, even a loveable puppet becomes creepy in these circumstances,” you mumble before turning around, passing through the wall as if it wasn’t there and heading towards the exit without another spare look at the corpse on the table. 

"But, hey, thanks for having me over Joey... or is Bendy in charge of this all? Anyway, it was a blast, loved the realism, the puzzle was great, and I love what you've done with the place! I, uh, wish you the best with everything, ya might wanna check on Sammy down in the basement, and... oh, actually, could I have some bacon soup for the road?..." Going on about nothing in estatic relief, you see the exit door and bite your lip. Taking one last step, your hand closes around the cold metal doorknob, and you dare to hope... 

"Oh, but, of course, it couldn't be that easy!" you shout as the knob remains in its sentient position. Kicking the door angrlily, you squeak as a flare of pain shoots through your toes and through your foot. "I hate you all," you hiss in pain, turning and trying to walk it off as you head towards the ink machine room. "Fine, you wanna play?" you growl as the boarded up doorway looms out of the shadows of the hallway. "Let's play."

Without hesitation, you walk up to the boards, not even blinking as the inky, smiling demon pops up and takes a swipe at you, the deliberate-seeming miss passing more than a foot away from your head. "You think you're funny?" you hiss, grabbing the wrist of the figure and pulling, the demon's face being slammed against the boards after another quick tug. The wrist begins to melt off into ink, but you still manage to keep a tight hold onto it, pulling 'Bendy's' face closer to yours. "Well I'm done messing around. I have a couple of questions, and you're gonna answer them. First off, why am I here? Second off, how am I here? And third off... are you a deformed, mutated, failed-experiment version of Bendy, or just Joey Drew, because I-" You're cut off by his other hand reaching through the floorboards towards you, but this time you flinch away with blood dripping down your cheek, your hold on the figure loosening.

"Hey!" The inky smile grows slightly larger, then shakes slightly as if laughing before dropping down into a puddle of ink on the other side of the floorboards. "Now listen here you little... that's... that's not how it happens in the game! You can't... you can't just change what happens! That's not how this works!" you shout at the boards, flipping it off before turning around to face the hallway. You hear another low chuckle, then realize that ominous music had started playing from seeming nowhere while you had been trying to confront inked Bendy. The hallway to your right had already been closed off and ink was already beginning to floor the floor. "Where's an axe when you need one?" you mumble as you begin walking down the flooded hallways towards the door that you already subconciously know you won't be able to open.

Cupping the stinging claw marks on your cheek, you take a few steps only to find the slightest bit of resistance. A couple more steps, and you realize that what had originally started as barely a puddle of ink on the floor had already made its way up to your ankles. You huff in annoyance as you feel the chilling ink steadily rise, seeming to move up inches in seconds. "Y'know, I would actually be fine with this, if it was ACTUALLY LIKE THE GAME? Y'know, with the whole false sense of urgency? And the ink not actually rising? And, oh, I don't know, the whole not ACTUALLY BEING HURT BY BENDY IN THE FIRST CHAPTER?" Already, after that short rant, the ink was mid-calf deep. Muttering curses under your breath, you proceed to flip off anything and everything as you start wading towards the exit, hoping your message was recieved by whoever was in charge of this sick horror show.

By the time you had managed to wade your way through the ink to the exit, the black liquid was up to your mid-thigh. Eyeing the last streach of hallway, your stand on the edge of where you knew the floor would give away. Wiping at your cheek, your hand comes away with red blood and black ink smearing together to form an almost beautiful shade of dark crimson on the back of your hand. Cursing Bendy, you look around, trying to find a way around this invisible obsticle. 

You could try to jump, maybe grab onto the edge of the hole to keep from falling and get to the door on the other side, but... "The stupid thing is still locked, isn't it?" You curse under your breath. That only left a couple of other options: try to find an alternate way out, which would be pretty much impossible considering the ink was now to your waist and you had already explored the entire ground floor of the studio that wasn't boarded off, just wait here to drown in ink, or...

You look down, trying to see the floorboards through the deluge of ink that was covering everything. The axe was down there, that much you knew. If you could get the axe, then stack up some barells and chairs from the basement to get back up here, a few swings and that door would be history. Besides, you knew exactly what was ging to happen down there, didn't you? If it came to it, you knew exactly when the Searchers would appear, you knew where everything was, you knew what tapes to listen to, and most importantly, you knew about everyone's favorite chapter 2 nutcase: Sammy. This studio would be lucky to still be standing after you were though with it.

"I swear, if the axe isn't down there, I'm going to make sure that whoever is in charge here wishes that they were never born," you say through gritted teeth. Then you gasp as something pokes you in the back. 

Screaming, you splash in a circle, taking a step back to balance yourself as you frantically look around to see... a Bendy cutout, halfway submerged in the ink. The smile is the last thing you see before you feel the floor give out.

And then you are falling, the ink-soaked floorboards clattering to the floor as you painfully land on your back. You have only a second to take a breath before the inky lake from above suddenly pours down, its current pushing you away from where you had fallen and slamming you into walls as more ink continues to pour down. In a desperate attempt to not drown, you push yourself off the wall, fighting the whirlpool current until you'e able to grab onto the handle of the door in the corner and force it open. Instantly, you're pulled into the hall by a waterfall of ink fighting for a way free of the room. Being swept down the stairs, you wince as you occasionally hit a stair, then slam into a wall as the staircase rounds a corner.

Finally, something to be greatful for! At least you seemed to be in the second update of the first chapter, meaning that there were more hallways and stairwells to flood rather than just one room. Pieces of boards hit you occasionally, the current continually pushing you down the stairs as you see another turn in the stairway. Banging into something hard, you open your mouth to shout a curse, but your mouth is immediately filled with the oily tase of ink. Sputtering, you grab into what you had hit, a pipe running from floor to ceiling in the corner of the stairwell, and hang on for dear life. The waterfall continues to try and sweep you down the stairs, but you can already feel the pressure lessening. "The ink must be running low by now," you hopefully think as the raging river of ink turns into a stream, then a small creek, and then into a tiny trickle that soaks into the floorboards and stains the stairs even more than they already are.

Letting go of the pipe, then cleanching and uncleanching your hands to get rid of the stiffness, you look down at your now ink-stained clothes and curse. "Oh come on! This is my favorite outfit! And I just washed it!" There's no response this time, not even the chuckle that sometimes follows your statements. "Y'know, when I'm outta here, I'm suing you. I don't care if you're a friggin' ink demon, I will find a way to bring you to court and I will make you pay, both literally because I'm broke, and figuratively because I've never wanted to punch anyone more in my life." Again, only silence responds. You sign, roll your eyes, then head down the stairs. "Whatever, I don't have time to argue with nothing. I have an axe to get so I can actually do stuff around here."

Walking down the last two flights of stairs, you turn left into the hallway and open the door, walking into another familiar-looking room. “Uh huh, the creator lied to us, great, gimme that axe.” Grabbing the axe off the wall without even looking at it, you continue walking, stopping before the first board blocking off the hallway. “And, I’m just gonna say it, this will definitely come in handy.” Another paper flutters past you, and you read it as it passes in front of your eyes. “New Objective: Clear An Old Path. Already ahead of ya, creepy paper-dropping guy.” Pulling back the axe like a baseball bat, you swing it as hard as you can towards the first board. Squeazing your eyes shut in anticipation of a spray of splinters, your feel the axe stop suddenly, and a ‘thunk’ sounds.

You open your eyes warily, then groan as you see the axe blade stuck in the board, only going halfway through the wood before stopping. 

“You’ve got to be… What happened to the wood being all old and brittle and EASY TO CUT???” Tugging at the axe handle, you manage to get it unstuck and heft it over your shoulder again, bringing it down harder on the board. Smiling slightly at the loud splintering sound the axe makes as it cuts the rest of the way through the board, the smile immediately falls as you try to tug the board away, only to find that the two halves are still firmly nailed to either side of the foorframe. “I can’t even… that’s it, screw the Henry approach.” Tossing the axe through a gap in the boards, you pick the largest gap you can find and worm yourself through. Wincing as a few splinters find their way into your palms, you quickly pull them out before grabbing the axe and continuing. Ducking under another beam, then stepping over another and so forth, you finally manage to pick your way through the wood and reach the door at the end of the hallway.

“There’s some barrels and chairs in there I can stack to get back to the ground floor, right?” you think as you look at the boards nailed to the frame of the door. Looking closer at it, your rest the axe on your shoulder, then reach behind the door in the middle, turn the doorknob, then push the door open. Stepping through the gap in the planks, you stand up straight on the other side, brush off your ink stained clothes, and smile. “Well, that was a lot less work. And oh whooptie do, pentagram room. Lemme guess, I’m gonna faint now?” Twirling a finger in the air, you put your other hand on your hip and walk forward, stopping at the edge of the Satinic symbol and looking around. “Oh, do I get the flashbacks too? Because I’ve always wanted to step into a Satanic ring and get creepy flashbacks before fainting! It’s always been a dream of mine. Oh gee, it looks like dreams come true after all!” 

Looking back down, you eye the symbol once more before looking around the room again. “Well, I guess I better get this fainting thing over with, then, shouldn’t I…” You take a small step closer to the pentagram, then side step it and continue walking over to the door on the opposite ond of the room. Once at the door, you turn back around and smile cockily at the Satanic sign. “Haha, sike! Everyone knows the flashbacks only happen once you step into the circle! One point to me, motherf-”

You’re cut off by a sudden wave of nausea. Bending over, head in hands, you fight off the urge to throw up as images flash in front of your eyes.

Ink machine.

You squeeze your eyes closed and try to focus on staying standing as your legs grow weak.

Wheelchair.

The world seems to tip, throwing you off balance. You throw your arms out in an attempt to keep you upright as a ringing starts sounding in your ears. This is so stupid, these aren’t even your flashbacks.

Bendy.

But was this a flashback? The image didn’t seem to be in your mind like the other one. Feeling a solid surface against your back, you blink your eyes open in your confusion. When did you fall over? And… your shaking fingers run over the floor, coming away black with ink.

When did you step into the pentagram?

Staring up at the ceiling, the room begins to spin. Ink seems to fly off of the ceiling, landing on your face and blacking out the edges of your vision. You manage to raise a shaking hand to wipe away the ink, but there’s nothing to wipe away.   
“I… hate… you…” you breathe.

As the blackness finally overtakes your vision, you hear a low chuckle. 

Then the whole world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what would y'all's do in Chapter 2 because I didn't plan this far...? I mean, I have a couple ideas, but they all involve knocking out Sammy, still using the axe as a weapon even after it's broken, and shouting 'BEGONE THOT' at ink monsters white throwing Bacon soup at them so PLEASE if you have any funny, original, or any idea in general, PLEASE drop me a line in the comments and throw me a couple. I'll be sure to credit your ideas if I use them and...
> 
> ...yeah, that's pretty much it. This is still so entertaining to write, so this story is gonna update whether anyone wants it or not ;) Thanks for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter


	3. The Old Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your suppport, even though I don't update for, like, 2 months ^-^ Big thanks to Skyrah, Alyssa_Heart, Heart of a Dragon (guest), and McADDBaby for their ideas and support! This chapter sucks, sorry...

"-Sheep, sheep, sheep it's time for sleep, I'm coming for you, I'm coming for..." your voice trails off from the song as a couple drops of ink drip onto your head. "Well... shoot."

Ignoring the ink that continues to drip onto you (you were already covered with the stuff, what was the point anymore?) and looking through the sheen of ink dripping from the ceiling, you groan as you see the collapsed passageway. "Of course. Because why would they change the game unless it works in their favor?" 

Really, you had subconsciously known this was the case from the moment you had woken up. You had forgotten where you were for a second, but once your vision had cleared and you saw where you were, everything that had happened came flooding back to you. After flipping out for a second, scrambling away from the pentagram and coffins and screaming, you had calmed down and headed towards the exit. 

Only to find that it had collapsed. 

"Wow, and usually when people wake up on a pentagram, that's the worst part of their day," you muse, halfheartedly kicking a fallen plank of wood before turning and heading back into the pentagram room. 

"Welp, I guess I get to go see Sammy then, right?" you say to yourself, grabbing your axe and taking a swing at one of the boards set over the door. "That'll be a blast." Wincing as the last board breaks, a couple small pieces splintering off and hitting your face, you put the axe over your shoulder and open the door. 

"And the thing that sucks the most about this is that you frickers keep changing the game!" you rant into the empty hallway, ignoring the board falling to the floor ahead of you as you continue down the stairs. "Like, this?!" Touching your cheek gently, you wince as it flares up in pain. "Like, not cool, man! What nightmare will you dream up next, Sammy coming out with a bazooka and pulverizing me? 'Bendy' cornering me in the projector booth and tossing me over the edge? Wally Franks following me around repeatedly telling me to get outta here?" Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you see the familiar Bendy alter in front of you and walk towards it. 

Picking up the banjo, you pluck it absentmindedly before setting it back down. "'He will set us free.' Huh. Well, hate to break it to ya buddy, but the only 'setting free' your senpai is gonna be doing is setting your soul free from your body. As in he kills you." Picking up one of the bacon soup cans on the alter, you examine it, then shrug and set it back down. "No visible expiration date... I don't know if that's a good sign... I mean, I'm hungry, but I don't think I'm that hungry." 

Stepping further into the room, you glance nervously at the coffins set in the alcove opposite you. "When did this place g- Oh wow, okay, we're still doing the whole 'forcing the person stuck in here to say Henry's lines somehow' thing. Great."

Eying tape recorder sitting near the Bendy shrine, you shrug and turn to face the hallway leading towards the music department. "Yeah, nope, I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of asking for an amen, you sickos." 

As you continue to walk down the hallway towards the Bendy cutout set against a messily drawn pentagram, you hear a quiet click from behind you. 

"Who-"

"He appears from the shadows-"

"Nope!" Continuing to walk, down the hallway, you take a swing at the Bendy cutout, then watch in satisfaction as something in this place finally breaks under the axe. 

"I see you, my savior..." Sammy's voice echoes from behind you. Frowning, you look down the hallway towards the room where the recording is. 

Or... was. 

In a puddle of ink in the middle of the hallway, an ink-splattered recorder continues to sound Sammy's prayer to Bendy. 

"Frick," you mutter, grasping the axe handle more firmly in your hand and speed-walking down the hall towards the ink-flooded area. There's a thud behind you, and as you turn to look back towards the cutout, you hear a splash from the hallway. Stepping into the chilling ink, you wince as it laps against your calves. 

"...final, loving embrace..."

Jumping back slightly, you look warily around the hallway only to find the recording now sitting on the half-submerged chair marooned in the ink. 

"But... love requires sacrifice... can I get an amen?" There's another small click as the recording turns itself off, silencing Sammy's voice. 

"No, you can not get an amen!"

Echoing down the hallway, Sammy predictably begins talking again. "I said-" 

"And I said NO so frick off okay?" Flipping off the hallway, you continue trudging through the ink. 

"Sheep, sheep, sheep..." 

"That's it!" you hiss, then sprint down the flooded hallway, lifting your legs as high as you can in an effort to make decent time through the calf-high ink. "Hello, excuse m- when would I ever say that in this situation?" Hurling yourself towards the inky figure holding the Bendy cutout, you attempt to tackle him only to have your foot slip out from under you at the last second. For a moment, you're suspended in the air.

Then you crash down, holding your arms out in front of you to take the brunt of the fall as your knees hit against the solid floor just out of the ink pool. "Ahhhhh," you breath in pain, closing your eyes for a second as you focus on not screaming bloody murder. Then your eyes fly open and you turn your head so fast that it was a surprise you hadn't snapped it. 

Nothing. All that stares back at you was the lifeless, pie-cut eyes of the Bendy cutout set in front of the pentagram smeared on the wall, Sammy nowhere to be seen.

"Of fricking course" you groan, standing up and wincing in pain as your knees scream out in pain. Great, another hurting body part you can add to your list. At least the stinging from the scratches on your cheek had dulled considerably. 

Hobbling down the hallway, you pause at the pulsating ink blob suspended in the extremely inky pentagram and shiver. "Would I respawn here if I died, or... You know, I don't think I want to know the answer to that question...." Turning and walking over the gate, you look at the switches. "Need to get power to this gate somehow.... yes I am aware of that. Switches..." 

A paper flutters past your face, and you snort. "Oh, wow, I almost forgot about you. Ummm... get power to the door thingie thing, right?" Picking up the paper, you read it, then shrug. "'Redirect Power to the Gate,' whatever. Okay switches... man, this is the part of the game I suck most at..."

\----------

"You know.... not actually that bad..." Tossing the bacon soup can onto the ground, you lick your lips thoughtfully, then shrug. "I mean, I don't love it, but it ain't horrible. Kinda like really greasy spam for some reason. Anyway..." Looking at the grease covered tip of the axe that you had used to hack open the can, you shrug again. "Grease causes ink to separate, doesn't it? Or does it just separate from water..." Tossing a couple more cans of soup to the floor, you press the button on the back of the shelf and feel it vibrate slightly under your touch. "And... that's the last of it!" 

Ignoring the paper lying on the floor in front of you, you step over it and head back over to the gate. "I feel like raising the gate is the logical next step; I don't need your freaky little papers. Friggin litterers." Grabbing the switch and pulling it down, you jump as a low rumble sounds through the hallway, then watch as the gate raises. As everything stops, there's another low growling sound, and then some lights snap on through the boards blocking off the next doorway. 

Tossing the axe through one of the gaps in the boards, you crawl under, then stand up on the other side. "Ah, the music department! Now, for the power, and..." you groan as you head to the staircase. "...and the Searchers..."

Looking at the lake of ink at the bottom of the stairway, you sigh. "Looks like the stairwell is... No, just... no... What do you mean, 'it's flooded?' It's ink! You just open the door!" Walking down the stairs and wading through the ink, you grab the door handle and tug. 

It doesn't budge. 

Tugging on it again, you pull, then push with all your weight. The door only makes a weird grating sound and refuses to move. "Huh... weird, it doesn't feel locked..." After further examination, you finally realize it. 

"New Objective: Drain the Stairwell..." You sigh. "Fine. Draining the stairwell won't fix the door. It's obviously waterlogged... well, ink-logged I guess, so it's expanded to fill the doorway more than it should, but okay. I dunno what else I'm going to do down here but chug old cans of bacon soup and try to remember my 2 years of piano lessons I had when I was a kid, so whatever." Switching on the power, you jump as the lights switch on with a loud noise. 

"Welp, Searchers here I come." Swinging your axe jokingly, you put it over your shoulder and head out the doorway. 

\-------

"Well, there's the pump switch all right. But that is one heck of a... you know what?" Looking at the glass separating the office from the hallway, you tap it tentatively. "Looks breakable to me... would be a shame if someone were to, I don't know, shatter it with their axe..." You grin, then pull back the axe and get ready to swing. "Who needs to go through the entire game when you can just skip to the end?

\--------

"I can't believe you're making me go through this entire game..." you mumble, pulling out another shard of glass from your palm as you stare at the still flooded stairwell. "C'mon, you're supposed to drain!" Waiting a moment longer, glaring at the sentient ink as if waiting for it to follow your command and suddenly drain, you throw your hands up in the air and spin around on the heel of your foot. "Fine, I need to turn off the flow? I'll turn it off. And then I'm leaving, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." 

\----------

"....C'mon down to recording town, we got the whole gang here, not sitting around..." As you spin the reels around, your elbow accidentally bumps the recorder on the ledge next to you. 

"Every day, the same, strange thing happens..."

Fiddling with the projector, you absentmindedly nod along to the recording. "Hmm... but where's the 'on' button...?" 

...."But, then again, I have to admit, Mr. Drew had his own... peculiarities."

"Tell me about it. And speaking of peculiar... what the frick is this?" Tapping the projector, you once again scan it for an on switch. "I mean, Henry just hits it apparently, but..." Banging your fist against the side, you jump back as it suddenly whirls to life. "Oh... well, okay then... Now that's done, so..." As you walk down the steps of the projector booth, making sure that the Searchers weren't going to attack you before proceeding into the entrance hall, you click the play button on the recording you had taken from the closet. 

"Every artistic person needs a sanctuary. Joey Drew has his, and I've got mine. To enter, you need only know my favorite song. 

The banjo playfully plucks. 

The bass fiddle plays its melody. 

The violin shudders with a piercing voice 

And the piano finishes with a last crescendo. 

Sing my song, and my sanctuary will open to you." 

"New Objective: Find Sammy's Sancutary." A paper falls from the ceiling and lands on the floor next to you. "Honestly, where are these coming from?" you mutter, tossing the recording to join Susie's in the corner. "Technically, I was supposed to get it in Wally's closet. Okay, banjo, bass fiddle, violin, piano. Easy enough." 

Quickly strumming/playing a note on each of the instruments, you play a couple of random notes on the piano just as the projector clicks off. There's a moment of silence, and then the door to the sanctuary slowly opens. 

"New Objective: Enter the Sanctuary, uh huh, I feel like that would be self-explanatory," you say, tossing the paper over your shoulder and entering the sanctuary. Heading immediately to the Flow wheel, you grab the cool metal and throw all your weight against it. Slowly but surely, the wheel begins to turn to the right, the metal creaking with every movement. "Perfect," you mutter, dusting off your hands as the pipes stop moving. Another paper flutters down, but you ignore it. "Got it, returning to Sammy's office now. 3, 2, 1..." Pointing at the entrance to the sanctuary as the cutout pops in, you keep walking, only stopping at the doorway of the sanctuary. 

"The Searchers only attack after I step out, right?" you muse out loud, glancing at the suspiciously throbbing ink puddle placed in a semi-circle around the entrance to the sanctuary. "Hey, Sammy, would it be too much to ask for a little help? Cuz, like, I'm gonna kill them all anyways, and you're going to try and sacrifice me to your senpai no matter what, so..." Calling up to the familiar figure in the balcony, you roll your eyes as he doesn't respond, the only clue that he was alive being the slight movement of his body as he breathed. "Yeah, um, so if you didn't know, I know about your little plan to knock me out and all. Great plan, really. Except Bendy's gonna kill ya when you summon him to kill me. Kinda a bummer. So if you could just, I dunno, show me the way out, that would be great." Shivering as the lifeless pie-cut eyes seem to stare right through you, you look down only to be doubled over with a blunt blow to the stomach. 

"H-hey, that... that wasn't... fair," you wheeze as you try to suck air back into your lungs. Taking a step away from the approaching Searchers, you swing the axe towards the next ink figure, still gasping for breath. Putting a hand gently on your throbbing ribs, you step back into the sanctuary, axing the next Searcher that leapt at you. "Dang you thicc tho. Geez that hurt." 

Spinning around to get the Searcher that sprung up from the ink puddle below the flow, you hear a thud against the wall, then see the ink pool below the loose boards. "Get wrecked," you breathe, grinning as the first Searcher clips the edge of the doorway, liquefying itself as another bodyslams itself into the wall. "Geez, and I thought I was just a game glitch. It's like they want to die or something!"

Waiting for a couple more thuds against the wall, you take a deep breath, trying to ignore your aching ribs, then dash out of the doorway and towards the door. Swinging your axe side to side, you feel ice-cold ink splatter against your face as you kick another Searcher in the face and feel your fingers close around the handle. 

Locked. 

"Oh, of course, because why the frick not?" you mutter, turning and taking out the row of Searchers behind you. Finally, only one left. 

"Come on, come on and fight me you little- FRICK!" Not timing your strike correctly, your axe digs into the weakened floorboards right as the inky figure slams into you, taking you down to the floor. As you struggle to refill your lungs with air, there's a quiet click, and the door opens. 

"Darn right!" you say, gripping the handle of the axe tighter as you walk out of the room. "I guess I'll see you later then, huh Sammy?"

Walking down the hall, you head back to Sammy's office and flip the pump switch once again before leaving. 

"....to come back home to play, but to your dismay, this isn't your day, for the happy fun time has begun to fade..." you sing, clicking on the radio for the heck of it. After a moment of fiddling with the knobs, but nothing changing except for the volume, you smile. "Actually..." 

\--------

"-BUILD UP OUR MACHINE YOU DIE TONIGHT, DO DO DO DO DOO DO DO DO DOOOOO, TONIGHT...." Holding the radio at your side, you stop your shout-singing and grin cockily at the suspiciously lumpy ink puddles. "Think you can jumpscare me, reoccurring-regeneration-of-Searcher-ink-puddle thingies?" Hefting the axe in your hand, you grin. "I thought you weren't supposed to regenerate before the Sammy thing, but hey, I guess we're just going to ignore all logic of the game. But I don't think you're gonna want to try that, unless you want to be 'axed' a question." Swinging your axe one-handedly through the air for emphasis, you take a step towards the edge of the hallway, eyeing the ink puddle next to you cautiously. "Now, come out Sammy, I know you're there..." 

You step forward, then spin around at the edge of the hallway, the axe held in front of you protectively. Then you stop. 

Nothing. 

"Wait... wait wait wait, hold up, did I actually... scare you?" Looking around, you hear a small splash, and then silence. Waiting a moment longer, you push your hair out of your eyes, then begin to laugh. "Y...you actually, oh I can't believe this! Walking closer to the edge of the hallway, you look around again. "I can't believe... you Searchers have finally realized who actually has the power here, and you're refusing to come out in your fear of being killed! Oh this is rich, now I have to just worry about Sammy, and I'm pretty sure he's hiding just around the corne-" You're cut off by a loud bang that echoes from the stairwell. Your exuberant smile immediately turns into a frown. "That doesn't sound good... Fair warning to whatever is about to attack me: you just opened a big ol' friggin can of whoop-a... oh frick." 

"Okay, this isn't even fair at this point!" you shout agitatedly as a couple of Searchers pour from the stairwell, joining the ones that had sprung up from the puddles around you. "Sammy is supposed to be annoying me at this point, not you guys!" Swinging your axe at the first one, you watch it liquify and fall to the floor, then feel the handle of the axe slip out of your hand. Watching helplessly as the momentum of the swing throws the axe out of your hands and away from you, the Searchers immediately take advantage of it and stand between you and it. "You wouldn't... oh come on, the ink made it slip out of my hand! That ain't fair!" 

Eyes widening as the figures frantically push past and crawl over each other to try and get to you faster than they are able, forming a shapeless blob with deformed arms reaching towards you, you take a step back wards. "BEGONE-" Tossing the still-blaring radio at the throng of Searchers, you turn and make a break for it. "THOTS!" Running back towards Sammy's office, you look back at the inky blobs chasing you. "This is supposed to be Chapter 2 of Bendy, not the Guest Area of Little Nightmares!" you shout over your shoulder, panting as you force yourself to run faster towards Sammy's office, the sickening squelch of ink not far behind. 

It was only a fleeting thought you had, as you slipped on an ink spot and then righted yourself, but it was enough for your mind to catch on to. A place to hide, that was what you needed. A place that the Searchers couldn't get into....

Sammy's office was out, that was for sure. The sheep-crazy nutcase himself could get in there no problem. But that left no other place, then, except for...

Time seems to slow down as you're forced to make a split second decision. The organ room was already behind you, and the infirmary was still out of bounds (you had already tried to get in there, moving the barrels only to have a barrage of Searchers attack you. You had left it alone at that point), so that left either the janitor closet, or... 

Skidding on another ink puddle, you manage to throw yourself into the office to your right and kick the door shut as you hit the floor. Immediately, there's a loud thud, and a surge of ink splashes under the door. "This literally isn't even the game, what the actual heck?" you complain as you brace yourself for another slam against the door. "I mean, technically it is, but the Searchers aren't supposed to trap me in this friggin office!"

The door jerks under the weight of the Searchers throwing themselves against it, and ink begins to leak under the door. "I could've been stuck in Undertale or FNAF, and this is where I get stuck in?" The door jerks again, and you shiver. "Actually, scratch that, in some weird way, I think I'd actually take this over FNAF." 

Looking around the room, you spot the Boris poster set near the desk, and immediately click two and two together. "I'm just gonna assume that the Searchers were meant to immobilize me since I was gonna beat Sammy to a friggin pulp, but did you think of this?" Stepping away from the door, it blasts open, Searchers pouring into the room. "Hasta la vista motherfriggers," you say before stepping through the wall. 

"Well, long time no see!" you say, looking at the cutout set against the wall in front of you. Stepping forward, a paper flutters in front of your vision. Reaching out a hand to catch it, you read it aloud. "The Man Behind the Curtain... hey, I get achievements in here? Nice! Now, c'mere... I'm gonna need something to replace that axe..." 

\--------

"-I HOPE YOU TURN ON THE LIGHTS NOW, CAN I GET AN A-MEN IN HERE-" Stepping through the wall and out of the secret room, you swing themeatly cutout at the nearest Searcher, then grin as it liquifies under the force and falls to the floor in a puddle of ink. 

"-YOU SEE THE MAGIC OF ART, IT WOULD TEAR APART IF YOU KNEW-" Catching another Searcher upside the head, you continue shout-singing slightly off-key. 

"-CAN I GET AN A-MEN IN HERE-" You wipe out two in a row. 

"-THIS MAGIC IS FUELED BY YOUR HEART-"

One more Searcher is pulverized. 

"-BUT THE DREAMS IN HIS EYES WERE UNTRUE-"

Another Searcher is creamed into an inky mess by themeatly's face. 

"-HE HAD BIGGER PLANS FOR THE BAND-"

You slam another Searcher up against the wall, then swing it back to destroy the one leaping towards you. 

"-BY DEMAND-"

You bring it down hard on another's head. 

"-WE CAME BACK TO THIS DARKENED CELL-"

The cutout finally breaks in half as you attack a particularly thick area of Searchers, and you hurl the pieces at the remaining inklings. Thinking fast, you grab the viola next to the desk and break it over the head of the nearest Searcher. 

"-YOU'RE GONNA BREAK US O-" You're cut off as something catches you from behind, a dull, stinging pain ripping through your back as a forceful splatter of ink surges over your shoulders and drips over your face. A painful 'oof' forces itself out of your mouth as you reel from the hit. Coughing as a deluge of ink fills your mouth, you wipe at your eyes only to be attacked from the side with the same stinging pain, and once again let out a painful noise. 

"I sound like I stepped out of friggin' Roblox," you mumble, stabbing one of the last Searchers with the head of the broken viola you still held. You then sidestep the last Searcher as it lunges for you, watching it smash into the edge of the desk and liquify itself. 

Straightening up, you considerately toss the broken pieces of the viola towards the trash can by the desk across the room and wipe at the ink on your face. "Well, that wasn't so hard," you say nonchalantly, beginning to whistle the intro to 'Dancing Demon' as you step out of the office and into the hallway now covered with shrinking Searcher puddles. 

So preoccupied with your victory that you forgot a somewhat crucial fact. 

"Sheep, sheep, sheep," the familiar voice says quietly as you fall to the floor, a dull pain shooting through your head as your ears are filled with a ringing sound. 

"Well, frick..." you mumble as your vision blurs, then clears just enough so you can clearly see the inky figure of Sammy standing over you, holding the axe that had slipped from your hands earlier. 

"Rest your head, it's time for bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Mentioned in Chapter: 'Sheep Sheep' by Rockit Gaming, 'Recording Town,' by Kyle Allen, 'Build Our Machine,' by Dagames, 'Gospel of Dismay,' by DaGames, 'Dancing Demon,' by TryHardNinja
> 
> Hope you enjoyed somewhat, even though this was my worst chapter ever? Also, should the reader insert have played all five chapters as they are released, or be completely blind after chapter 2? Or should I just end it here? Thx for reading! And sry for typos I did this all on my phone...


	4. The End of the Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA How does one title???
> 
>  
> 
> In which the Reader does... stuff... Idk this chapter kinda sucks tbh, sorry. I swear I tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the absolutely amazing trailer for Chapter 3 (I'M STILL SCREAMING IT'S SO GOOD THEYDIDACARTOONOHMYGOSH DREAMS REALLY DO COME TRUE IT'S ABSOLUTELY PERFECT PLEASE GO WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T IT MADE MY DAY AND JUST ASDFGHKHAIJFIO I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!), I decided to try and turn out chapter 4 of this. It kinda sucks, but it ain't too bad... I think. I wrote it at, like, 10 last night, and during the free time in my psych class, so... yeah... Ain't exactly Shakespeare, but... Hope you enjoy

Before you even open your eyes, the throbbing pain reverberating through your skull pulls you out of unconsciousness. Your back is pressed against something hard, something holding you against it by your shoulders. Then, a rough scratching snakes its way around your abdomen, pulling tight before repeating the motion. Groaning, you open your eyes, then close them just as quick when the light blinds you.

Bracing for the brightness, you blink your eyes rapidly as they adjust to the light, then look around surprised as you see that you're standing up. "Huh, weird," you think. Then, the scratching feeling passes over your stomach again. "Hmm, last thing I remember..." You try to recall what that had been as you look down, and then your eyes widen.

"There we go now, nice and tight," a familiar figure says, straightening up from tying you to the post that your back rested against. Ah, so, that would explain the prickly rope now holding you in a standing position, but what about the throbbing in your head....

Oh, yeah, right. You wince. The whole being knocked out thing again. Perfect. Wasn't this day just turning out better and better? The thing that annoyed you the most was that you probably could have avoided this if you had paid more attention. But nooo, you just _had_ to forget about the lunatic music director in the basement while celebrating your defeat of the ink monsters that had attacked you.

Sammy Lawrence's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "We wouldn't want our sheep roaming away now, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," you say.

"No, we..." he pauses, then glances at you. "Wouldn't..." Pausing again, he takes a moment to continue. "I must admit, I am... honored, you came all the way down here to visit me."

"Lemme guess, it almost makes what you're about to do seem cruel?" He cuts off what he was about to say, then shakes his head slightly. "But the believers must honor their savior. I must have him notice me," you both say in tandem, and you grin cheekily at the figure. Even through the mask, you could feel his death glare.

"Okay, so, now that I have your attention... like, I already told you about the whole Bendy-kills-you thing, right? Because I feel like I've reiterated that nasty little fact a couple times now, and it seems to not be making it into your inky little brain of yours. In fact-"

"Silence!"

"Um, excuse-"

"I said, silence!" Raising an ink covered hand to his face, he proceeds to do something that you hadn't expected in the slightest.

He grabs the Bendy mask and pulls it away from his face.

Well, not completely. He tugs the mask down, only letting it slip down a couple inches. Massaging his temples in exasperation as if your mere presence was hurting him, you stare at the two, small divots in the ink-coated face that had come into view. You absentmindedly wonder how he can see through the ink when he winces.

"I... I am sorry, my lord," he mutters to himself, slipping the mask back over his face. Then he turns back towards you, continuing to go off script.

"Sheep must be obedient to the flock, to the Shepard. You..." He repositions the mask, straightening it, then points at you. "You are not an obedient sheep. You were not supposed to break the glass in my office-"

"It was practically _begging_ me to break it!"

"-you were not supposed to trespass into a hidden room to avoid containment-"

"Oh please, there was practically a welcome mat and a sign that told me to go on in."

"-you were not chosen, as I was, to remain in the house of my lord-"

"I literally had no fracking choice, and I will gladly leave at any time if you could show me the way out."

"-and you are not supposed to talk!" he finishes exasperatedly.

"Oh, sorry, my mistake. I forgot. Baa, baa, I'm a sheep," you bleat sarcastically. "Or, beep beep, depending on-"

Your voice is suddenly cut off as your mouth is filled with an oily taste. Resisting your gag reflex as the invading substance is pressed into the back of your throat, you try to complain loudly to Sammy, but all that comes out is muffled and unintelligible through the makeshift gag.

"There..." the music director says in relief as you gag against the oily cloth he had pulled out of his pocket. Wiping his ink covered hand on his stained overalls in a useless repetition of humanism, he takes a breath before leaping back into his prepared monologue.

"Wait..." he pauses. "...You look familiar to me... that face..."

You decide to ignore the man and the words you knew by heart for now and focus on getting free of either the ropes pinning you against the post behind you or the gag in your mouth. Preferably both, but you weren't too picky at this point. Wiggling back and forth, you only feel the ropes tighten as you try and pull away.   
  
He shakes his head. "Not now, for our lord is calling to us, my little sheep. The time of sacrifice is at hand. And then, I will finally be freed from this... prison. This inky... dark... abyss I call a body." There's a small pause, and then you hear a quiet thumping noise coming from above. "Shhh... quiet! Listen! I can hear him-"

You cut Sammy off, giving him a disbelieving stare. "Are you aware that you just told me to shut up when you're the one blabbering on and on about your senpai?" you say. Or, at least, you try to say. Getting your words around the wad of fabric in your mouth was surprisingly harder that you thought. As was removing it, you think bitterly as you continue to try and spit it out. Your jaw was beginning to ache, and you weren't exactly enjoying the fact that you couldn't at least spew sarcastic comments.

"-Crawling! Now, let us begin. The ritual must be completed! Soon he will hear me... he will set us free."

"He's going to kill you," you think, trying to push the cloth out of your mouth with your tongue as Sammy turns and walks towards the door. Finally spitting out the wad of fabric, you wince as you see it's stained and dirty. "Ew... I don't even want to know where that's been," you mumble, licking your dry lips as the man enters the doorway and slams the door shut behind him.

The speakers precariously held up on the posts in front of you buzz, static breaking through for a second before Sammy's voice comes through. "Sheep sheep sheep, it's time for sleep."

Just to try and piss him off again, and maybe make him come out and attempt to gag you again so you could try and change his mind, you begin shouting the words along with him. "Rest your head, it's time for bed. In the morning, you may wake. Or in the morning, you'll be dead." He has no reaction to you following along with his words exactly: either he had built up a tolerance to you or he couldn't hear you. There's some muffled banging, and the lights set above door begins to blink. With a loud screech of unused metal that had been in a lot of contact with liquid, the door slowly begins to rise as the music director leaps into the next part of his monologue.

"Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering! Free me, I beg you! I summon you, ink demon!"

Glancing nervously at the door, you begin to feel a slight sense of guilt. I mean, sure, this dude had knocked you out and was currently trying to sacrifice you, but... He was still a person, wasn't he? A terribly misguided person, yes, but a person. Or... was he, anymore? I mean, the wiki had labeled him as a monster, but still... "Um, hey, Sam, you might not wanna do tha-"

"Show your face and take this tender sheep!" The voice over the intercom overpowers your own, and you groan.

"Well... maybe Bendy will decide to not-"

"No! My lord! Stay back! I am your prophet! I am your-" The sentence breaks off into screaming, and you hear a weird noise in the background. Ink floods out under the door in a dark puddle, and your ropes suddenly loosen. Wiggling back and forth, the stiff ropes snap, and you stumble forward, catching yourself right before you fall.

Grabbing the axe, you look guiltily at the door. "Well, there wasn't anything I could do... I mean, it seems that the game won't allow me to do much that will change the storyline in any way..." Jumping back in surprise at a splashing noise, you swing your axe and catch a Searcher in mid-leap. Quickly killing the other one, you look back at the door. Maybe...

Before you had even come to a concrete decision, you found yourself in front of the door with your hand on the doorknob.

Taking a deep breath, you grip the handle tighter, then slowly turn it. The knob turns all the way with little resistance, but the door doesn’t budge. Frowning, you throw your weight against it and turn it again. There’s a scratching sound as the door grinds against the doorframe, but it reluctantly opens.

It was really just as you expected. Looking down, it was almost the exact view you saw from the end credit scene following Chapter 2. A splatter of ink with the mask set on top of it. You shudder, then look behind you nervously as the clanging echoes around the room again, just as it had when Sammy said he was ‘crawling above.’

Only this time, it wasn’t muffled.

Heart beating faster, you look up slightly. That’s when you noticed it. Something that had been pointed out in many pictures on the internet, whether through Tumblr, Reddit, or Youtube.

You should have looked up. You might as well have looked up, you were so close. But you just take a step back, slamming the door just as the demonic growling starts again. The same noises that had sounded in the background of Sammy’s death... Gripping the axe tighter in your hands, you sprint towards the hallway, jumping over the first plank and not even caring when the ink puddle you jumped into splashed all over your clothes. Whatever, they were already covered in the stuff. You just needed to get to the end of this and get out of here. Besides, there was no way that was Boris’s foot. He was very clearly seen in the end of Chapter 2, so there was no way he could have been in the room.

"Ha! How's the axe gonna break if I don't use it to cut anything, huh?" you say aloud, trying to get back your annoyingly sarcastic bravado back. "Losers. You're so dead. Imma slay y'all." Ducking under the last board, you step into the hallway and manage a smile as you feel the unbroken handle of the axe in your hand.

Your smile drops as you feel the axe shudder, then promptly break in your hand. "Oh come on!" Looking disdainfully at the broken pieces as they fall to the floor, you sigh before picking them back up. "But let's be honest here, the head of the axe is still in perfect condition. No way I'm leaving my only weapon here." Holding the handle in one hand and the blade in the other, you prepare yourself to take a step forward when you remember something.

"Oh, how could I forget?" you mutter, smiling as you turn around. Taking a step back, you prepare to bolt at the sign of any random music and and flashing lights, but you feel the ink lap at your shoes without anything happening.

Grinning, you continue to step backwards into the ink, only stopping once you feel the wooden surface of the wall at you back. "Aha, found it!" Turning your head, you find the doorknob and try to turn it. "Well, of course it's locked," you mutter, wishing the axe was fixed. You try using the top piece of the axe, but since it was really just the head of the axe and a small strip of wood, you couldn't do much to the door but leave a couple, shallow scrapes. You shrug, not really have expecting it to work, anyway. "Ah well," you mutter, then cut off as a new noise behind the door starts.

Your grin widens as you listen to it, then begin whistling along with it. "Ah, gotta love the Easter Eggs," you say as it stops, then sighs before turning around and trudging back out of the ink.

"I hope you know how much of a drama queen you're being, though," you remark as you step into the hallway. You glance nervously behind you, debating on whether you wanted to go back while you still could, but then dismiss the idea. "I mean, you are literally unable to jumpscare me unless I'm able to get the full experience by facing forward," you continue. "I feel like you've been planning this entire thing, y'know? Like 'okay once they step in here, imma make sure they _think_ they're safe, then Imma jump out of this here puddle and wave my head around all exaggeratedly and then run towards them...' and then you proceed to try to make everything as dramatic as possible." Still rambling on, you take a step forward.

Not even phased by the inky figure leaping from the pool of ink and looking disorientatedly around, you pull back your hand holding the broken top half of the blade. "See? Exactly my point. And speaking of points..." Throwing the axe at the figure, you hit it squarely between where its eyes should've been.

The figure's disorientation immediately disappears, and as it reaches up to tug out the axe with a liquidy thunk, you can feel it glaring at you through the ink covering its eyes.

"Welp, here goes nothing," you mutter. Getting into a battle stance of sorts, you stare 'Bendy' down. Holding out your hands in front of you, you form a cross out of your index fingers. "Uh... begone, ink demon? Like, power of the heavens and stuff like that? Just... shoo before the powers of religious goodness?"

Either it had no effect, or the demon was really good at resisting the power of religion, because without warning he bolted towards you. "Well, frick me gently with a chainsaw, this guy certainly needs to be more chill," you mutter as you turn around, almost screaming as your leg twists out from under you when you try to turn a corner. "SCREW THESE ****ING INK PUDDLES," you scream, scrambling to your feet, then yelping as you force yourself to put weight on your probably now twisted ankle.

Dashing forward into the now cleared hallway, you risk a glance over your shoulder only to see the deformed ink demon a few feet behind you. The lights dim, then flash to full brightness as you turn the final corner, then put on an extra burst of speed. Your heart beats in your ears to the unsteady rhythm of the pitter-pattering of your feet and the slap of Bendy's against the ink-stained floor. Pushing yourself even faster, you dash to the door. As you pass through the doorway and your shoulder clips the framework, your leg gives out and sends you crashing to the floor. A board slams down to bar the door, there's a loud thump, the door shakes, and then there's only the sound of your heavy breathing.

"T... that..." you breath out. "Was... way worse... _way_ worse than it had to be."

Forcing yourself to stand, you use a shelf of plushes to push yourself to your feet before limping towards the doorway labeled 'Vault S3.' Gingerly putting some weight on your ankle, you grimace and decide to keep limping. Probably not sprained; it didn't hurt too bad. It had mostly given out because you had to use it so soon after hurting it, but it couldn't hurt to keep some weight off of it for a while. Limping to the center of the room, you look at the corner.

This was it.

All you had to do was take another step, and you'd be done. Boris would come out, and then the game would be over. I mean, after this, you could...

Wait...

Wait...

_Wait..._

_What happened after Boris?_

Your eyes widen, and you try to backpedal the final step you had taken. "Waitwaitwait _stop_!" you shout, but it's too late. There's a click as metal hits the floor, and a can of bacon soup rolls out onto the floor.For once, you suppress the scripted words that try to force themselves out of your mouth. You stand there, openmouthed at your probable mistake, and watch as a familiar, wolf-like figure walks around the corner.

"Boris," you whisper. The figure stops, staring at you with a blank expression. The pie-cut eyes bore into you, and you take a small step back, putting weight on your aching foot. Then the lights shut off, leaving you in blackness and for you to mull over what you had just done as you waited for the unknown to happen.

Oh gosh, you had no clue what you'd do next. You had been relying on the fact that you knew what was going to happen at any given time in the game to get through this. But now... you were on your own.

Because this was the end of Chapter 2. This was the end of all the chapters that were currently released. This was the end of all the chapters that you had played. 

 

 _But this wasn't the end of the game._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah... that's the last chapter for at least a while cuz Chapter 3 isn't out, but idk. Tell me what you liked? What you hated? AND OH MY GOSH GO WATCH THAT TRAILER IF YOU HAVEN'T IT'S PERFECT AND AMAZING AND IT COMES OUT IN SEPTEMBER AND THE STUDIO IS SO BIG NOW AND THE C A R T O O N AND ASDFHGJOJMPOSJ *SCREAMS FOR ALL ETERNITY* 
> 
> Oh, and thank you all for reading. Have a great day! ;3


	5. Bonus (Chapter 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Video game logic sucked.
> 
> Correction: Video game logic in this half-real-life-half-video-game hellhole sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha thought this story was dead, huh?
> 
> Well guess what, you were right.
> 
> Basically, I finally finished the game (...and I'm gonna be honest, I'm just a _tiny bit_ confused because, while I love lore, I'm not exactly the most perceptive person), but I'm sure a couple 'Bendy Chapter 5 Explained' videos that I'll dig up later will clear things up) and was reminded of... whatever this was. I still had the remains of an outline for the 'Chapter 3' portion of the game in my drafts for... geez, has it really been a year at this point? More than a year? 
> 
> ... _what the heck Chapter 3 came out September 2017???_
> 
> Anyway, I was going to attempt to turn out another chapter of a different fic, but then decided for no reason whatsoever to brush up the bits that I did have written and plop 'em down here as sort of a bonus chapter. No, I won't be continuing after this; honestly, I think that this weird lil thing ended after 4 chapters, but I figured I mightaswell just share what I've got. 
> 
> Is it complete? No. Is it well written? Debatable. Is it all I've got? Yeup. So... here we go!

 

Despite how backwards it seemed, it was almost a relief when the next paper finally fell. An entire week (...or maybe just a few days? A year? Who fricking knew? The creepy Bendy clock in the room you had claimed ran wayyy too slow for your liking) of nasty toilets, cold and greasy soup cans, scratchy cots and endless days of card games (Boris was definitely cheating) with that same looped song in the background… to sum it up, you were done. So incredibly done. Beyond done, in fact. Death would've been preferable over this hell, but your sheer spite to slap that inky-bitch across the face and find whoever stuck you here was keeping you going strong.

So, when the next objective fluttered past your head as you eyed a sepia colored wall while wondering how many times you would have to slam your head against it to end this, you leapt up and fumbled for it with ink-covered hands. It evaded your grasp and fell to the floor.

Eagerly grabbing it from the ground, you hold it up and read the words written on it.

“Next objective…” You trail off, then look up at the cartoon sitting in the chair across the table from you, head bobbing to the music that had played on repeat ever since you had gotten here.

“Find the door lever…” you mutter, walking over to the toon. Feeling your mouth open on its own accord, you let whatever programed voice lines you were about to say spill out without any resistance. “Hey buddy, have you seen that lever handle around? Or are you holding it hostage until I make you something to eat?” Your eyes narrow. “No way. No fu-” Your voice is cut off again as more lines force their way past your lips. “I thought so. Let’s see what we got.”

  
You fall silent and the scratchy sound of the record playing becomes the only noise. Another objective flutters past your eyes, and you catch a glimpse of the writing. You resist the urge to smash the record player (because even a _sane_ human could only stand so much more of that lilting tune) and focus on the bigger issue at hand.

“A week. A _week_ . I wait here for an entire week, just _waiting_ for some direction, and when I _finally_ get the next objective, it’s to make you _soup_?”

The toon continues bobbing his head to the beat, but you can see him smirk slightly.

 

* * *

 

It took you way too long to find the last soup can -though, in your defense, it was in a weird place, and you were half-sure you had eaten this now-necessary item about a week ago right up until the moment you had found it.

“That should be enough,” you find yourself saying as you pick up the third soup can, only for it to disappear like the first two had. “Damn right that should be enough, greedy son of a biscuit.”

  
You turn to look at the toon expectantly. “So, uh… can I have the…” You wave a hand at the door. “Y’know, the thingie for the thingie?”

Boris acted as thought he couldn’t hear you, head still bobbing to the beat as he stared off into the distance. But his hand pointed off to his side, and following the gesture, you turned to see…

  
A pot of cold soup. Sitting on the stove.

“Are you… are you kidding me… I actually have to make it?

Boris was definitely smirking this time.

  


* * *

  


Video game logic _sucked_.

Correction: Video game logic in this half-irl hellhole sucked.

Because you were sure than, when playing the game, like, on a computer, you didn't’ have to wait 10 agonizing minutes for the soup to heat up on the stove. And you were _definitely_ sure that you wouldn’t have gotten third-degree burns on your hands from the stove misfiring as you tried to turn it on.

It had taken you 5 minutes to figure out why Boris wouldn’t just eat the soup and give you the thing already. After trying to get him to eat it (first bribing him with a random bone you had found on a shelf, then shouting at him, pleading, and finally just trying to pry open his mouth and shove the cold slop inside of him), you had finally noticed him gesturing once again towards the stove.

Because _nooo_ , Boris couldn’t just suck it up and eat cold soup like you had to in the time you had spent here, could he? (...in your defense,  the stove really didn’t look like it worked. At all. If you knew it did, you would’ve heated it up, it wasn’t because you were lazy you _swear_ ).

Slamming the burning pot of soup on the table, you looked expectantly at Boris. “Alright, I got you the soup. Can I-” The toon slammed a toolbox onto the table, nearly spilling the pot… which was now a _bowl_ full of soup, cool, great… over your already burned hands.  
  
He then slouched back in his chair, head bobbing along to the music.

  
“You aren’t… you really aren’t going to… I fricking made this and you…” you sputter, half in anger because hey you had worked hard on that crap, and half in hunger because it really did smell good and if he wasn’t going to eat it…

Shoving a spoonful of soup into your mouth (...it tasted too good, it _shouldn’t_ taste that good. You were almost disappointed at how far your standard for food had fallen that anything _warm_ tasted fine to you), you grabbed the lever in your hand, then marched towards the door where the panel next to it now pulsed with light.

A piece of paper flutters past your face, and you catch a glimpse of the words before shoving the lever into place. “‘New Objective: Leave the Safehouse.’ Well _about_ _damn_ _time_.”

You pull the lever, then watch as the door swings open into an unfamiliar hallway.

Another slip of paper, this time landing in your hair. “Find a New Exit.’ Well… sounds like a plan…” Looking around for something- anything- that could possibly protect you, you settle on picking up the bone you had tried to bribe Boris with earlier. Turning to look back at said toon, you toss the bone absentmindedly from hand to hand. “So… no weapon besides this breakable piece of shit. No direction whatsoever. And I’m just supposed to head out there?”

The toon stands up and walks towards you suddenly, and you back away carefully, unsure if this was part of the game of if you had finally pissed the dude off enough to push him into action. I mean, under pressure, Sammy had eventually cracked. Who was to say that Boris hadn’t finally reached his breaking point?

He stopped in front of you, head cocked to the side. And then he was wresting the bone from your hands, ending up with it in his mouth before you could even protest.

“Are you- Alright, fine! No direction, no clues, and now, absolutely no weapon! Great!” Waving your hands in a sarcastic ‘woo hoo’ motion, you step through the doorway, only to be stopped by yet another paper.

“Geez, how many objectives do I need?” you mumble as you uncrumple the paper. “‘Attention: are you sure you want to leave the safehouse? You cannot go back.’”

You pause, finally seeming to realize what leaving this room would mean. You had no clue what was out there, what you would face, how to get past literally any of the inevitable puzzles…

  
You glance back at the safe room. Sure, it was boring. It was really boring, actually. But… it was safe… wasn’t it? Would it be better to just stay there? After all, you still had no clue what happened if you died. If this was a ‘you die in the game you die for real’ scenario or not.

“Let’s see what’s out there. Don’t wander off,” forces its way from your lips, and you roll your eyes as you take a step back. “Whatever. I think I’ll just take a moment, go grab some extra food or something, maybe dismantle the cot for a weapon…?”

And then the door slammed shut, pushing you out into the hall. Stumbling forward, you barely catch yourself before you fall to the floor.

 

* * *

 

“Looks like it’s really dark up ahead. Let’s find some light.’ Oh, oh no, not flashlights. Flashlights in horror games are never a good sign.” Listing off some examples on your fingers even as Boris tries to force you to grab the clunky device on the desk, you try and push it away. “I mean, there’s Tattletail… Five Nights at Freddy’s… uh… and there’s probably tons more?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you hear that?” you whisper quietly, but Boris just stares at you with a blank expression. “Yeah, me either. Now wait just one damn second, what the hell do you mean by that? I mean, what do I mean by that?” You shake your head. “Never mind. Point is, I definitely heard something.”

 

* * *

 

 

Squeezing your hand through the gap in the hanging shelves, you manage to snag the edge of the tape recorder and pull it towards you. You wince as it slips from your grasp and hits the floor with a clatter. “Well frick. Ah well, I guess I had to move these shelves anyway…” You freeze as there’s a click, and you look down to see that the fall had hit the ‘play’ button on the tape.

 

“I don’t be seein’ what the big deal is…”

 

“Oh my gosh iS THAT-?”

 

 

* * *

 

“...I mean, I’m not gonna lie, this is a jammin’ beat, but…”

“ _....I’m a happy dish, and boy can this girl sing…”_

Looking nervously at the angelic cutouts around you, you jump backwards as the spotlights facing the stage snap on with a loud clang. “I don’t like this, I don’t like this, friggin jumpscare alert if I ever…”

A deformed figure snaps up against the window, banging a ink-covered fist against the glass, leaving a dripping mark. **“I'm Alice Angel!”**

“And _I’m_ getting the hell outta here,” you squeak, immediately turning around to break down the door. The lights snap off, and you desperately shake the handle you managed to grab in the dark. The noise of glass shattering has you jerked around in seconds, and you find yourself in some sort of battle stance as the lights slowly fade back on.

The figure is nowhere to be seen.

You pause. Then, “Wait, no! Alice? That was friggin Alice Angel? No!” You turn and glare at the walls. “She’s supposed to be nice! She’s supposed to be _nice_ . There has to be _someone_ nice here? I mean, besides Boris, but he isn’t really doing much, to tell ya the truth.”

 

* * *

 

“So, last lever, then I-SWEET MOTHER OF-” Side stepping the monstrosity that burst out of the poster on the wall and fell to the floor, you wack it with enough force to throw it against the wall. Pressing back against the other wall, you watch in horror as it picks itself up and turns towards you, swinging the weapon in its hand at you. “ _What the hell are you?_ ” you scream as you bash its head in with your pipe.

 

* * *

(...bet you can tell where I started losing motivation, huh? And, just because I can...)

~BONUS BONUS~  


The door slams shut behind you as you stare horror-struck at the cured sepia-colored hallways that started this whole thing.

  
You barely get a moment of dread, a moment of feeling the pit in your stomach, at the deja-vu, at the possibility of being stuck in an endless loop, before everything goes black, leaving you with a moment to think through everything you had just seen. 

Even though you should be focused on the most important thing, namely that the game had officially ended and you should be worried about where that leaves you, you can't help but hyperfocus on what had just happened.  
  
"Wait... what?" you mumble into the darkness. "That's... that's how it ends?"

A sudden lurch, a sensation of falling, and you find yourself settling back into a seated position, though there doesn't seem to be anything supporting you. There doesn't seem to be anything around you at all.

And then shadows appear in your peripheral vision, pieces of a room slowly coming together, flickering in and out of focus until-

They snap into clarity.

You're in an office. An all-to-familiar office, seated in a surprisingly comfy swivel chair, an array of displays in front of you. 

"Oh... oh no..." you mumble, brain still trying to keep up with all the rapid changes that you had just gone through.

Your stomach only sinks as there's a small click, and a tinny voice crackles through the speakerphone.   
  
_"Uh... hello? Hello, hello?"_

 

 

 

 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...You can never really tell how much your writing style has changed until you try to go back and write in that same style again. Geez. 
> 
> Despite this being so old and me basically having abandoned it, I really do genuinely enjoy this lil story. It was super fun to write while it lasted, and I met a ton of cool people through it. But... yeah, as you can tell, it's over. RIP. If anyone does happen to come across this ancient cringe compilation, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this sure isn't how I would react (I would probably just flip out, have a panic attack, then end up having a heart attack and dying tbh) but this was fun to write. Hope you enjoyed my random crap :)


End file.
